


Comrades in Hell

by Reidluver



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Sort of at least, War bonding, cuddle fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reidluver/pseuds/Reidluver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sledge learns that even in the pits of hell, you have a chance to make your own happiness. It’s the only way to keep your soul from vanishing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comrades in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is based off the actors' portrayal in the HBO series and NOT the actual men themselves. I mean absolutely no disrespect to them.

Sledge couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He was bone tired and just so fed up with this fucking war. He should be out like a light but for whatever reason he wasn’t. He bit back a moan and glared up at the stars. He wasn’t one to curse God, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t considered it from time to time.

After a while, Sledge snuck a glance over at where Snafu was sleeping in their little foxhole. For whatever reason, Snafu had been rather quiet lately. Everyone went through their periods of detached stares and noncommittal grunts, but Snafu’s had never lasted this long before. He always seemed like a bomb that was about to go off any minute.

Tonight, Snafu was lying on his side, facing away from Sledge. There was a slight tremble to his form, and Sledge felt his throat close up. Snafu was nearly curled up in a ball, and while he was making no sound at all, he might as well have been crying.

Snafu didn’t seem the kind of man to cry, and Sledge doubted he even knew how to anymore. This war took so much, it seemed you either ended up a lifeless husk or dead. It was why Sledge was so insistent on reading and writing in his Bible. It was the only way to remind himself he was human.

Sledge wanted to do that for Snafu, but most days it didn’t seem to make a difference. The guy’s eyes were dulling more and more each day, and Sledge knew the same was happening to him. It had gotten to the point he was nervous to look at himself in a mirror, afraid of what would be staring back at him. But at least with Snafu, he hadn’t shot Sledge yet and still offered him cigarettes or the use of his lighter, so Sledge knew his efforts were at least working.

 _“The worst part about treating those combat boys from the Great War,”_ his father had said, _“wasn’t that they’d had their flesh torn. It was that they’d had their souls torn out.”_ Sledge thought he had understood his father’s words, but it wasn’t until he met Snafu did he realize just how wrong he was. At first, Sledge saw Snafu as a good-for-nothing jackass who only joined the marines so he could be a bastard to everyone and kill without restraint.

But as time went on, Sledge realized there was more to it. If you were too soft, you either froze up and got yourself a Jap slug in your brain, or your brain snapped in half on its own and they sent you away to spend the rest of your life drooling in a white jacket. Snafu would never freeze up in a firefight, so it was up to Sledge to protective whatever scrap of sanity Snafu had left.

His decision made, Sledge crawled over to Snafu, being careful not to make too much noise and startle someone into shooting him. It was a testament to how fucked up this war was that you’d have to worry about being shot by your own men at night. Their nerves were so on edge it was a wonder more of them hadn’t snapped.

Sledge gave a small prayer to God that his kindness wouldn’t reward him with a knife in his gut, then lightly touched Snafu’s shoulder. “Hey, Snafu,” he whispered.

Snafu moaned and curled tighter into himself. “Jus’ got offa watch, lea’ me alone.”

 _Here goes nothing._ Sledge reached out and pulled Snafu toward him so the other man was leaning against him with his head against his shoulder. Snafu was absolutely still for a moment and then tried pulling away, only to be stopped by Sledge’s arm wrapped around him.

“Th’ fuck you doin’?” Snafu growled, his eyes half-lidded with something so raw and broken there was a terrible clenching in Sledge’s chest. Instead he ignored it and shrugged.

“It’s cold, dumbass,” he said. “Won’t be much help tomorrow if I’m a frozen popsickle.”

Snafu snorted. “Who said you was evah any help? I’ve dragged yo’ ass all over this fuckin’ island.”

Sledge laughed. “Whatever, man.”

Snafu tried once more to wrench himself out of Sledge’s grip before sighing in defeat. He put on a big show but snuggled closer against Sledge and burrowed his face against his shoulder. “Guess is a little cold,” he mumbled. Then he pointed a finger at Sledge. “Wake me up again an’ I swear to God I’ll stick a pole up yah ass an’ wave it like a flag for ‘em Japs ta shoot at tomorrow.”

“Sure, Snafu.”

“Mean it.” Snafu’s mouth widened in a big yawn. “Them Japs’ll waste all ‘er ammo cuz they’d think you some ugly beast straigh’ from hell.”

The night grew silent once again, and Snafu passed out within seconds. His breathing had slowed and Sledge craned his neck to see one of the most peaceful looks he had ever seen on Snafu’s face. His gaze traveled down to the faint weight on his chest, and he noticed one of Snafu’s hands lightly grasping the fabric of his poncho.

There was a sudden prickling in his eyes and Sledge peered back up at the stars, blinking furiously. The lights wavered as if God was winking at him, as if saying that maybe this place wasn’t so godforsaken as it appeared.

A minute passed and Sledge brought his gaze back to their foxhole and caught Burgie’s eye, who was currently on watch. The sergeant gave him a warm, proud smile, but Sledge could only nod. He couldn’t trust his voice at the moment.

“Best get some shut-eye,” Burgie said after a while. “Long day tomorrow.”

It was as if those were the magic words he needed to hear. Sledge put his helmet behind his head as a makeshift pillow, then fell asleep just as easily as Snafu did.

—-

When Sledge woke up the next morning, Snafu was sitting across from him, staring straight ahead as he ate breakfast from his can. When their eyes met, Snafu nodded his head at something to the right of Sledge. He looked and saw it was his own breakfast can, the lid already perfectly peeled back.

“Keep tellin’ yah gotta toss that shitty can opener an’ learn how ta use a knife like a real man,” Snafu said, shaking his large survival knife.

“And end up slicin’ my fingers off? No thanks. Don’t know how you’ve still got yours.” Sledge grabbed the half-opened can and started eating. It was more of a mechanical action by now. Food just wasn’t exciting anymore. It was only energy.

“That’s cuz I’m a genius. ‘Bout time you fuckin’ learned tha',” Snafu said with a scowl. Sledge merely grinned at that, and after a moment, Snafu’s scowl fell and he looked hesitant. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Eventually he settled on a small smile. Not the kind he normally wore, with the edges all curled and cruel and sadistic, but a real one. One that was rare and delicate and _human._

Sledge’s grin only grew because that smile didn’t look so broken anymore. It made the day that much brighter and Sledge realized his pastor was right—taking joy in the little victories made life just a little more bearable. 

Snafu frowned then rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Surrounded by fuckin’ idiots,” he muttered under his breath. Sledge laughed and playfully lobbed a rock at Snafu’s boots.

He was stuck in a never-ending hell that much was for sure—but at least he didn’t have to go it alone.


End file.
